


It's Sort of Like Peach Fuzz

by going rogue (onlyastoryteller)



Series: A Room For The Night [3]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 22:10:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17010135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyastoryteller/pseuds/going%20rogue
Summary: Armie shaves his head; Tim reacts.





	It's Sort of Like Peach Fuzz

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ashleymoshow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashleymoshow/gifts).



> By request, a little bit of fluff inspired by the events of the past couple of days.
> 
> Also includes a proposed explanation for something I have noticed.
> 
> I hope this is what you were looking for, and that it does the trick!
> 
> (As always, 100% fiction, I wasn't there.)

The cab ride to the hotel seemed to take a year. Armie ran his hand nervously over his freshly buzzed scalp, enjoying the feel of the new short haircut, and tried to ignore his phone.

It continued to vibrate in his pocket, one message after the other. Jesus. He was in for it, that was for sure.

Between taping Fallon and meeting up with the cast for the Academy Q&A, he had dared to peek and see what people were saying. He smirked now, thinking about the massive online freakout.

Perfect, really. Just what he had wanted. He didn’t actually mind it when people talked shit about him. It was better than them not talking about him at all, anyway.

It had especially pleased him to see the reactions of _his_ people. Ilaria was pissed. Evelyn had tagged Elizabeth, and was clearly annoyed herself. He knew Elizabeth thought he was an idiot.

Whatever. It was his hair. He didn’t give a fuck what anyone else thought. Except…

With a sigh, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. When he had checked reactions earlier, he had studiously ignored the messages from one particular person. Now, the message count was up to…

Fuck.

Four missed FaceTime calls, six missed regular calls, and a shit ton of texts. He scrolled through them quickly, wincing a bit.

_T: WTFFFFFF_

_T: Call me asshole._

_T: I said CALL ME_

_T: Okay, you’re probably onstage right now but as soon as you’re done making nice with Jimmy would you please FUCKING CALL ME_

_T: Did you go insane? Is that what happened?_

_T: I innocently log on to IG and I have to see THAT with no fucking warning so what is it, I don’t rate a text or something when you’re going all Britney fucking Spears on me?_

_T: Is everything okay?_

_T: Fucking fuck fuck_

_T: Okay now I know you’ve had time to see these so you’re deliberately ignoring my pain_

_T: Armieeeeeee_

There were more, variations on the same. Okay, so Tim was freaking the fuck out. That was pretty much the reaction he had anticipated.

The question was, would Tim really hate it, or was he just going apeshit because Armie had done this without warning?

He swallowed at the thought that the kid might actually hate the look. He didn’t want Tim to hate it. He wanted Tim to love it as much as he did. The freedom of it, the sleekness. It made him feel younger. Hell, it had made him feel younger to grab those clippers and just fucking go for it without overthinking it in the first place.

He hadn’t done something so impulsive in a while. Not since—

Well. He knew not since when, but _that_ had worked out pretty damned well.

He decided he had better reply to Tim before Tim completely lost it.

_A: Hey, sorry. Crazy night, just got out of the Q &A. Shit, that’s a lot of messages. _

There was an immediate reply.

_T: Bull fucking shit_

Armie rolled his eyes.

_A: No, really, I swear. I just got out of the theater and am headed back to my hotel. In between there was too much to process._

The cab pulled up to the hotel entrance then, and Armie quickly paid the driver and unfolded himself from the car. The doorman nodded hello and opened the door, and Armie strode through the lobby, glancing at his phone for the response he knew was coming.

_T: Again I call bullshit. You were ignoring me._

Armie hit the button for the elevator and tapped out his reply.

_A: I’m sorry._

The elevator arrived and Armie stepped on, hitting the button for his floor.

_T: So you’re admitting that you were ignoring me?_

Armie considered how to respond to that. He didn’t think Tim was actually mad, but he could get mad if Armie fucked this part up, like he often seemed to do. He had a way with words, he just didn’t always use it.

The elevator doors slid open and he exited into the plush hallway. His footsteps were muffled on the thick carpet as he made his way down to room 1407.

_A: Yes. Mainly because I wanted to save your reaction for when I had appropriate time to respond. And because I didn’t want it to kill my mood going into the Q &A. I’m sorry. _

Armie slid the hotel key into the lock and pushed the door open, only to be greeted with lights blazing. He smiled in anticipation, his heart beating a little bit faster, his stomach flipping with excitement.

He should have known. He should have fucking _known._

Tim stood in the center of the room, his hands on his hips, that adorable mouth of his twisted into a pout.

“All I’m asking for is a quick, ‘Hey, T, I’m gonna shave my head if that’s cool with you,” said Tim, tossing his phone onto the bed as soon as Armie had entered.

Armie closed the door behind him and spread his palms outward in a gesture of helplessness.

“I don’t remember the part where you took title to my fucking hair,” said Armie.

Tim cocked his head to the side, his mouth quirking into a half smile. “You don’t? That’s funny, because I remember it perfectly. You gave it to me in Crema.”

Armie kicked off his shoes, shrugged out of his coat, and stalked forward slowly. “I gave you a lot of things in Crema,” he said. “You can’t expect me to remember them all.”

“You were probably drunk at the time,” said Tim, watching Armie approach, his eyes going two shades darker.

“I wasn’t drunk when it mattered,” said Armie. He reached Tim, but didn’t touch. Instead, he stood before the kid, waiting.

What was he waiting for? Judgment? Rejection? Disappointed acceptance?

Tim peered up at him. He reached up a hand, then stopped. “Can I touch it?”

Armie huffed out a laugh. “You’ve _never_ asked me for permission to touch before,” he said. “Why start now?”

Tim raised his eyebrows. “I did _so_ ,” he said. “After that first rehearsal.”

Armie’s smile softened. “I guess you did,” he said. “You asked if it was okay for you to really touch me, even if the cameras wouldn’t catch it.”

“And you said you’d be disappointed if I didn’t,” said Tim. “I was so...relieved. And excited.”

“Excited?”

Tim shrugged. “That I was going to get to put my hands all over the great Armie Hammer.”

Armie blushed, the way he always did when Tim talked about him like he was truly something special and not just a half-okay actor who happened to have hitched a ride with a true star.

“Cut it out,” murmured Tim.

“What?”

“Stop thinking crap about yourself or I’m leaving.” Tim took a step back.

“You wouldn’t.”

Tim grinned. “No, I wouldn’t. At least not until I got a good look at you.”

Armie took a breath. Here it was then, the verdict. The only opinion he cared about besides his own. He set his jaw.

Tim walked around him slowly, stroking his chin in an exaggerated fashion and frowning. “Hmmm,” he hummed.

“Well?” Armie’s skin was starting to prickle, waiting. If Tim hated it, would he lie to protect Armie’s feelings? He hoped not. They had never done that before, no point in starting now.

“Hmmm,” said Tim again.

He stopped in front of Armie and reached up both hands, cradling Armie’s skull with his delicate fingers. He pinched at the ends of the short strands with his fingers.

“Can’t get a good grip on it,” he grumbled. “What am I supposed to hang onto for dear life if I can’t grab a handful of your hair?”

“You’ll have to get creative,” said Armie, his breath going shallow with Tim so close. “So you hate it?”

“Not necessarily,” Tim said. “Just assessing the drawbacks.”

He flattened his palms and rubbed his hands around to the back of Armie’s head and then to the front again. He smiled.

“It feels nice, though,” he said, his voice dropping into that low, breathy range that always _did_ things to Armie’s entire nervous system. “It’s soft...I like that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Fuzzy. Makes me wonder…”

“Makes you wonder what?”

“How it might feel on other...parts of me.” Tim’s eyes flashed, and Armie groaned.

“Shit,” he said. “We can conduct an immediate experiment, if you want.”

Tim leaned up and kissed him, and Armie immediately relaxed. Tim didn’t hate it. Maybe he even liked it. He should have expected that; Tim had a way of always seeming to like the things about Armie that everyone else in his life thought were problems.

He reveled in the sensation of Tim’s mouth against his, parting his lips and inviting a deeper exploration. His arms slid around Tim’s waist and pulled him close. Tim’s hands roamed all over his shaved head, and Armie felt divided in half — one half revving up like a rocket and the other settling down like a purring kitten.

When they paused for a moment, Armie leaned his forehead against Tim’s.

“I thought you had other obligations tonight,” Armie murmured. “I didn’t think I’d see you until tomorrow.”

“I canceled my plans. Told them I was feeling under the weather.” He huffed. “Like I was going to let _anyone_ else get a chance to see you before I did,” said Tim. “I mean, besides a Fallon audience and the fucking Academy. Have I mentioned that I’m pissed off you didn’t warn me, or at least send me a photo so I didn’t have to troll your mentions for blurry fan photos? Have I made it clear yet that it hurt my feelings?”

“It might have come up,” said Armie. “So. How bad is it?”

“I’m not really mad.” Tim nuzzled his nose against Armie’s. “I’m just giving you a hard time. It’s your fucking hair, after all. You’re allowed to do whatever you want with it.”

“No, I meant...be honest, how bad is the hair? Does it make me look like crap?”

Tim kissed the corner of his mouth, and then his cheek, and then his jaw.

“You couldn’t,” he said. “Not possible. You could shave it bald and you’d still be hot as fuck.” He pulled back, eyes wide. “Don’t, though. Shave it bald, I mean.”

“I promise,” said Armie with a chuckle. “Not unless it’s for a role.”

“Okay then. As long as we’re clear on that. No, really, though...it’s a good look. You’re sort of...younger maybe. But also fiercer. Dangerous. It’s so slick it makes me think you’ve got _plans._ ”

“Plans?”

“Nefarious plans.”

Armie grinned and pulled Tim closer. Jesus, he had been so fucking nervous about this, and the fact that Tim _liked_ it—

With a growl, Armie lifted Tim and tossed him towards the bed, laughing as his arms and legs flailed about and he hit the mattress with a soft _oof_.

“Oh, I’ve got _plans,”_ Armie said, advancing towards the bed.

Tim let out a breathless laugh as Armie landed next to him.

“Hang on,” Tim said. “I think we have some experimenting to do.”

Armie grabbed the hem of Tim’s shirt and tugged it up, exposing his pale skin. “Let’s start here,” he said. He ducked his head down and rubbed it against Tim’s stomach, causing the kid to explode into gasping giggles.

“Stop, stop, shit—Armie stop,” he curled around Armie’s head and tried to push him away at the same time.

Armie decided to have mercy, and pulled back. “What, no good?”

“No fucking fair,” Tim grumbled. “You can’t start _there_ , you know how ticklish I am.”

“Oh, you’re ticklish? That hadn’t occurred to me.” Armie grinned at Tim before capturing his lips in a kiss again.

“Asshole,” breathed Tim when they broke apart. “Now, get me naked already, so we can really experiment properly.”

Armie shook his head in wonder, marveling for the thousandth time that this incredible person was _his_. Tim’s eyes went glossy, and he looped his arms around Armie’s neck, trailing his fingers up to stroke at Armie’s scalp.

“It’s just so _soft_ ,” he whispered.

“Is that good?” asked Armie, nuzzling into Tim’s neck and breathing him in, savoring the feel of the simmering desire mixed with utter contentedness, something he only ever felt with this one man.

“Mmm,” said Tim, rubbing his cheek against the top of Armie’s head. “It’s like...it’s sort of like…” he snickered slightly. “Like peach fuzz.”

Armie snorted. “You’re going to have to pay for that,” he said, his lips brushing across Tim’s collarbone.

“I certainly hope so,” murmured Tim. He tucked a finger under Armie’s chin and pulled until Armie could look him in the eyes. “Seriously, though...it’s fucking hot. That sweater is, too, by the way. You should always wear that.”

Armie blinked at him. “I chose it because it reminded me of you,” he said.

Tim made a happy sound. “I was wondering. Now when I see you wear it, I’ll know you’re thinking about me.”

“Then I’ll have to wear it all the time,” said Armie, peppering Tim’s face with tiny kisses.  

He slid his hands under Tim’s shirt again, and this time Tim didn’t laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> I've put this into a series with two other fluffy one-shots that take place in hotel rooms. Apparently this is becoming one of my "things."


End file.
